Escape
by TheLovelyBirds
Summary: I failed. I failed to keep my friends safe. I was the reason they were now imprisoned in the hell that I had been trapped in for six years. And I couldn't be more ashamed.


I failed.

I failed to keep my friends safe. I was the reason they were now imprisoned in the hell that I had been trapped in for six years. And I couldn't be more ashamed.

They tortured me into telling them what they wanted, they knew I had information that could be vital to them so they refused to let me go, to stop or to end it all by simply killing me. I should have let them mess up. I should have let them accidentally cut too deeply, electrocute too badly or beat too severely. After all everyone makes a mistake at sometime in their life.

I was free.

They did mess up. The injection they gave us all to suppress our mutations was extremely time sensitive, therefore it had to be administered at a precise time during the daytime every three days and if failed to do so we regained our mutation, or so the rumor went.

They lined us up like objects in a factory conveyor belt, standing in silent rows with our heads bent toward the earth. I never knew if people were praying or if they were simply following the crowd. Silence was how everything was done, even in our "free time" no one dared to say a word. Only the screams of family members or the dying were the music that we heard.

They had missed my time by eight measly minutes and that gave me the time to realize the rumors were true. those seven minuets I had to react were like a hammer breaking soot stained glass on a window I could see shards of hope. I thought of a way to fake my injection and control the person who administered them and give me a flu vaccine instead. I kept head bent yet, but my heart was racing and my eyes not still. I felt like my poor acting was a red flag to the men with their guns. No one said a word

You see, my mutation is like being a puppeteer: I control people like they have stings attached to every muscle in their body. It's a nice thing in practice but the things I could do with it scared me.

So now here I was in this wasteland of a city, emaciated (though I managed to put on some weight since I had escaped) and running as if my life depended on it. I should have just stopped the person that had been following me for the last two miles. They were almost invisible to me at first, like a shadow lurking in the corners of my insane mind, but as I traveled on they got more careless; letting me hear the snap of a twig under their footfall or the crunch made by stepping on already shattered glass. I should have made them put a bullet through their pretty little head or slit their own throat, but I couldn't do that... not anymore- not after what's been done to me.

I kept going on until I couldn't take it anymore my paranoia consuming me from the inside out so I jumped into one of the many little stores that lined the streets. I jumped through the shattered display case, cutting my thumb on an erect shard of glass. I put my uninjured hand over my mouth to quiet my ragged breath and pressed my back against the small strip of wall that was below the smashed window case.

Footsteps fell on the opposite side of my wall I froze listening until I heard them pass. Removing my erratically trembling hand from my mouth I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned my head back, repeating to myself that it was all over. That they were gone.

Suddenly a pair of startlingly strong hands were dragging me from my trance and from my wall. I tried to pull them off of me, but my desperate clawing and kicking only made it worse and the grip tightened. My back slid across the glass edge sending searing pain in the razor like incisions they made on my skin.

"Who are you?" I heard a mans voice demand as he held tightly, one arm against my chest and the other trying to contain my desperate hands. He sounded a tad bit familiar. When I didn't respond he repeated himself "I said, who are you?" He asked again giving me a small shake. For God's sake he had been the one following me! I should have the right to that question.

But instead of finding my voice all of my senses where on overload, my mind was being flooded with memories of that steel paneled room and harsh florescent light along with the array of knives that were lain out next to me like dental tools next to your chair when you're going in for a cleaning. All this was blurred and scrambled because of the loud hum of terror and static noise that bombarded my brain.

Then it clicked.

I stopped struggling immediately which made him loosen his grip just enough for me to turn and throw arms around his neck.

"Oh my god, Peter" I breathed as tears began to pool in my eyes and my throat tightened painfully. It felt like the dam of built up emotions burst just like that and everything came gushing out. I hated crying in front of others, but I truly didn't care any more. Circumstances change. Too much pain can change people.

It had been Peter following me. One of the people I had betrayed. Piotr "Peter" Nikolaievitch Rasputin, fellow mutant and X-men. The only X-men (besides myself) who wasn't currently incarcerated.

"Alice?" Peter asked, his voice shrouded in what seemed to be a disbelieving daze. I choked out what sounded to be a half sob half laugh and nodded into his shoulder. His surprised arms hesitantly wrapped around me in return, but soon engulfed me like a tiny pebble being placed in a flowing river.

"Oh my god, how did you get out?" He asked, still not letting me go. Peter and I have never been romantic. He was a friend.

"They messed up." I whispered. It was the only audible speech my voice would let me create without being strangled by tears.

"Is everyone else out too?" He asked and he pulled away to look me in the face. I fell silent. Seeing my reaction he had decided against pressing me on the subject.

The sight of me must have been a slight shock. I was dirty, with riddled clothing and cuts that were still oozing blood. My usual large and innocent round eyes and their bright and uplifting moss green gaze was beaten down to a dull gray. And my naturally blond curls were a slightly dinged yet it was the only thing I had managed to maintain, it reminded me of normalcy.

"Why were you following me?" I asked with more courage than I have had in years.

"I thought you were Illyana" he said quietly. My heart sank at this. His little sister.

"But she's your sister, why didn't you say anything?" I asked pushing my eyebrows together.

"She lost it before she disappeared." He said in the same low tone.

"I'm sorry" I said, placing a hand on his arm.

"It's not your fault" he shrugged. I sighed. When it came down to it all, it actually was...

A/N hey guys! So I'm starting this new story. It's been swimming in my mind for a long time. Comments? Questions or feedback? Leave a review and let me know!


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